


(his lips like tangerine in his) color coded speak

by Pinkmanite



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: D/s elements, Dirty Talk, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Incest, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkmanite/pseuds/Pinkmanite
Summary: Ryan likes a lot of the things, but he especially likes to fuck with Dylan.





	(his lips like tangerine in his) color coded speak

Ryan likes to fuck with Dylan, and it’s not really a secret.

Even out of the bedroom, in their daily lives, Ryan likes to fuck with Dylan. Likes to bait him and egg him on and rile him up until his cheeks are ruddy and he’s buzzing, ready to fight or fuck or whatever it is he’s in the mood for that day.

He does it at home, with their parents around, just like when they were kids. He does it during interviews, if Dylan happens to come up, just so he can look forward to an angry series of texts an hour or so later. He does it when it’s just the two of them, out for lunch and in _public_ , just to see Dylan react.

They’re adults, and Ryan knows fully well that they’re adults, but it just makes him more aware of it, more aware of the kind of power he has here, the power he has over _Dylan_.

It’s kind of hot, okay?

It’s especially hot when Ryan’s got Dylan pinned down on his expensive sheets, a muted green he picked out just because he’s like the way it looks against Dylan’s skin. He tells Dylan that, tells him how well Dylan fits into his house decor, tells Dylan it’s what he’s best at — laying around looking pretty. Tells Dylan he’s not worth much else, that really, he should just stick around and be Ryan’s pretty little plaything, on display for him all the time.

Which, that’s not _really_ on Ryan’s list of kinks, but Dylan’s reaction? That makes the top.

“Shut up,” Dylan says, throws his arm up to cover his eyes, even as Ryan undresses him, unwrapping him like a present.

“You’re only mad because you’d love it and you don’t want to admit it,” Ryan keeps pushing. “You wouldn’t have to do anything, you wouldn’t have to think. I’d take care of you.”

“You’re fucked up,” Dylan bites, still refusing to look at him.

“But not as much as you are, baby,” Ryan finally gets Dylan’s pants off all the way, tosses them on the floor unceremoniously. “It’s okay, you know I’ve always taken good care of my toys.”

Dylan groans, squirms under him. “Can you just—” he stops, frustrated. “You know what I mean.”

And Ryan _does_ know what he means — he could read Dylan like a book, his own personal novel — but instead, he plays coy, because he likes a lot of the things, but he especially likes to fuck with Dylan.

“What is it, Dylan?” Ryan pauses to tug off his own shirt, yanks it over his head by the collar. “Or do you want me to decide? So you can just keep on looking pretty?”

“ _Ryan_ ,” Dylan whines, a non-answer. But it’s all the confirmation Ryan needs.

“Okay, baby,” Ryan hums, leans over to kiss a trail along Dylan’s collarbone, nipping lightly. “Sit still, I’ll take care of you.”

And it’s breathtaking, the way Dylan stops his squirming and goes stock still, just because Ryan asked him to. He still won’t look, but it’s okay, because he shivers when Ryan ghosts his fingertips over his hipbone, light and gentle.

Ryan gets a finger in him, ready to prep him out, but he quickly finds it redundant when it goes in easy and loose. Sticky-wet in lube, warm around him. He breathes in sharply, a reflex, and is sure Dylan hears him, because he clenches down on him.

“Fuck, baby,” Ryan hisses, “you want it that bad, huh?”

Dylan’s flushed, pink from the tips of his ears, down over his chest. He lifts his arm just a little, a peak. He locks eyes with Ryan immediately, and brings it back down just as quickly.

“Don’t be ashamed, Dyl,” Ryan coos, “you should be proud to be such a good slut.”

“‘m not,” Dylan murmurs.

“Oh but you are,” Ryan counters. “Ready and open so your big brother can just come home and slide into you, easy like that.”

Ryan emphasizes this by sliding another two fingers in, all the way in, grinning when he isn’t met with resistance, but with an encouraging squeeze, sucking him further in.

“See? Easy for it.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Dylan finally breaks and groans, frustrated. “I’m easy for it, I’m easy for you, Ry,” he rambles off, all in one breath. “So could you just fuck me already?”

But Ryan frowns, pulls his fingers out and pinches at Dylan’s thigh, a little meanly.

“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready to fuck you,” he snaps, stern.

Dylan won’t have it though, starts to squirm again, desperate to get Ryan’s hands on him again. He keeps his eyes huts but lifts his arm until he can run his hand through his hair, restless and antsy. Ryan doesn’t care for that, though, so he grabs his wrist and pins it over Dylan’s head, squeezes once in warning before leaving it there.

Obediently, Dylan keeps it there, keeps it still. He blinks his eyes open cautiously, slowly, until they’re fluttering open and staring up at Ryan through long lashes.

“Please, please, Ryan,” Dylan says, doesn’t break his gaze. “I’ve been waiting,” he whines. “Fuck me _now_.”

“I told you,” Ryan tuts, “I’ll fuck you when I want to, and you’ll just have to take it and thank me, whenever that is.”

“Fuck you,” Dylan says instead, kicks a little at Ryan, but is unfortunately uncoordinated at this angle. “You’re such a dick.”

Ryan doesn’t miss a beat. “A dick that you love to stuff yourself with.”

Dylan opens his mouth, tries to come back with something just as witty, but in true little brother fashion, throws his head back, annoyed and defeated. He groans, bratty, and Ryan knows he’s done it, he’s won.

He’s thoroughly fucked with Dylan.

So, with that goal met, Ryan takes pity on his little brother, and laughs, a little bit lighter, when he grabs his chin and meets him for a kiss, deep but slow enough to focus on, just the way Dylan likes it.

“Okay, I guess I feel like fucking you now,” Ryan murmurs against his lips.

Dylan makes a face, pointed, but keeps his mouth shut. Ryan smiles approvingly; that’s his good boy.

“See? Knew you could be still and look pretty,” Ryan says, one last taunt as he lines himself up. He times it well enough, so that when Dylan opens his mouth to talk back, Ryan is already watching him and sinks in, content when Dylan chokes on whatever words get caught in his mouth.

Ryan knows how to fuck his brother, knows the right proper way that Dylan craves, begs for. Knows how to screw the words out of Dylan’s head until he can’t think, until all he can focus on is the drag of Ryan’s dick inside him, stretching at his rim until it’s red and puffy and _used_.

Until he knows that the finger-shaped bruises on his hips are just one of many Ryan’s marking, his claims, that Dylan is his and his alone.

So Ryan fucks him, good and hard, doesn’t slow down when he hears Dylan shout and whine. He knows his brother, and he knows his brother’s body, better than anyone else ever could. And while he’s long past the need to prove it, Ryan refuses to let Dylan forget it.

He pushes his limits, and that’s what Dylan really wants, really craves. That’s why Dylan lets Ryan fuck with him, why Dylan secretly revels in it, too embarrassed to straight up admit it. But that’s okay, because Ryan knows, and Ryan will take care of him.

Dylan comes first. It’s messy, and he thrashes around a little, enough that Ryan has to hold him down, pin him down into the mattress while he feels Dylan squeeze impossibly tight around him. It’s more than enough to set Ryan off, to send him spilling hot and wet, deep inside Dylan.

It leaves Ryan panting, out of breath, the tingly feeling of a good orgasm spreading rapidly throughout his body. Dylan is already gone, limbs lazily sprawled across the mattress, chest falling and rising laboriously.

Ryan pulls out, and with it comes a string of his own come, dripping out of Dylan’s hole like an offering. So Ryan can’t resist, scoops it up with his fingers without thinking, automatically smears it on Dylan’s cheek.

Dylan makes a face but doesn’t protests, maybe even leans into it a little. Ryan breathes out, admittedly endeared, then settles until he’s laying up next to Dylan, curled up on him.

And it’s here, these kinds of moments, when it’s just the two of them wrapped together, that Ryan understands and knows, when it clicks and he gets it.

Ryan likes to fuck with Dylan, sure, that’s not a secret. But Dylan likes to be fucked with, by Ryan especially, and that secret is safe with him.

  


_end._

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> title from 'coming down' by halsey


End file.
